winter capsule 2021

What if I want to live simply? To drink coffee and watch the sunrise with no where to go.

In 2015 I started my minimalism journey. I began saying no to things I didn’t need, to people that weren’t meant to be in my life, and to anything that I didn’t want to do.

If it wasn’t a hell yes then it was a hell no.

I’ve grown and changed so much in the pat 5 years, creating habits and learning more about intentional and simple living than I ever thought I could.

To have continued these healthy habits for five years is no small feat, so I am celebrating myself and honoring how far I’ve come.

I’m a bit late in sharing my winter 2021 capsule wardrobe, I took much of December to rest and reset. These clothes will carry me from December through February. A combination of comfort and style, each piece chosen because it sparks joy when I hold it.

Gone is decision fatigue and “having nothing to wear.” Replaced with beauty and simplicity and far less clothing, each piece feels like me.

27 items including shoes for this capsule. Not pictured are two winter coats and a few pairs of earrings.

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

Inspiration

This Irish Fairy

This Gentle Soul

This Australian Wise Woman

Wonder

I love a vision board.

The process of not only planning ahead for the year to come, but also looking at the previous year to see what it brought you.

I don’t have to tell you that this year was a big one. An awakening and unraveling of nearly everything. The hardest year for some.

I am so tempted to look back on this year with distaste. To remember the pain of all that has been, but then I looked at my vision board from January of 2020.

I had pinned photos of gardens. Of compost and home grown veggies. I found toddler activities, at home games and fun to do with my growing baby. Everything I had imagined for my year came to be. I imagined a beautiful life at home with my baby and that’s what followed, although, not in the way I expected it to.

I often wonder if the universe is conspiring to get me exactly what I want, but never in the way I expect.

I’m not ignoring the pain and the hard. More than ever before I am aware of the many broken systems there are to fix, how much more we must do in order to be whole.

But I’m also choosing to see the good. I think one of the most radical and powerful things we can do is to see the beauty and the lessons in the past – without it we can not grow.

Instead of being swallowed whole by the darkness, I am choosing to wonder. To imagine what can and will be.

Who I want to be, what habits I want to instill, what I want my world to look like. The more I think on it, the more I plan and imagine and wonder- the more likely it is I will make it happen.

2020 was not the hardest year for me. 2019 was when everything felt impossible and fell apart. And that impossible year I did the same things. I imagined my ideal life, what I wanted and who I wanted to become.

And with that vision in my mind I moved through the darkness one step at a time. Doing each next right thing to get me where I wanted to go.

It’s not about comparison. It’s not about capitalism and how hard you can work or what you can produce.

It’s about you. What are your heart and soul aching for, where are you going and how are you becoming. What would the world look like if we all tried to become the very best versions of ourselves, if we focused on what would make us truly and wildly alive.

I wonder.

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

My 2021 Vision Board

Forget

Sometimes, I forget who I am.

I get pulled into this world. Social media, work, things, stuff.

I forget to stop and breathe the cold December air. I spend time with Miles pointlessly scrolling through my phone. I make lists of things I must buy. I forget.

But then, a text from a dear friend reminds me. I return to the things that fill my soul instead of deplete it.

I start to do the things that help me remember.

I write gratitude lists and recall the worthwhile things I do in a day. I meditate and chant and sing and dance. I lean into the people living slowly and intentionally, with no care for the parts of life that do not feed their soul.

I get down on the ground with our animals, I tell them how loved and beautiful they are. I remember they are not here for long.

I pull my little one into my lap. I smell his hair and kiss his cheeks. I forget my phone even exists, and I just am.

It’s okay to forget, we all do. But please, don’t forget to come back.

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

For Nigel

Things that help me remember:

Fairyland Cottage

Reaching out to soul friends that understand

The Cottage Fairy

The Ikonns Podcast

Mountains

Her Time, Lang Leav

She has been feeling it for a while now that sense of

awakening. There is a gentle rage simmering inside her,

and it is getting stronger by the day. She will hold it close

to her- she will nurture it and let it grow. She won’t let

anyone take it from her. It is her rocket fuel and

finally, she is going places. She can feel it down to her

very core- this is her time. She will not only climb

mountains- she will move them too.

There is often a fire in myself that I ignore. My inner most understanding and knowing, she is always burning. She tells me of my dreams and my desires. My hopes and my purpose. She reminds me what I am hear to do, here to climb.

Sometimes, when I am sad or overwhelmed, I ignore her. I tell her to be quiet and to be realistic. To stop wanting so much when what I have is more than most.

This makes her sad. To be shushed and pushed down and quieted. Not being listened to breaks her heart.

In the name of professionalism, I often quiet my fire. See the wrong and swallow it back. I blame the man and capitalism and patriarchy. I sink down and let the world swallow me whole.

She waits. My fire waits for the pain. She knows that when I can quiet no more, I will experience the pain again- I will be forced to listen.

Pain, you see, is always the beginning of work, of becoming. If we take our pain and we decide to listen for what it is teaching us, we rekindle our hearts, our fire.

I return the harsh and cruel words with gentleness and grace. I don’t need to make them see me, I already see me.

I let the fire rip forward. I let her fill my belly and my lungs. I feel her everywhere. I remember myself.

I remember my power and my potential. I remember the times I had to lead the people that call themselves leaders. I step into my power and remind myself every single day not to let them take it again.

I find the courage to leave the table when respect is no longer being served.

And so, here’s to you. Here’s to the fire and the knowing deep in your soul. Something no one else can touch or take or quiet, unless you let them.

This life is mine alone. Glennon Doyle

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

For when you feel your fire go out:

This book

This podcast

These poems